Nicholas Wayde Turner
I hid from the world hoping to keep the secrete.
But I didn't know how to do it.
Things were getting out of control.
Spinning and spinning until I no longer knew the truth.
The truth was lost.
I was lost, and I couldn't find me.
I have forgotten who me was after that day of chaos.
I'm trying to find that person I once knew.
But it's getting harder and harder because of the lies that finally built up to the skies.
I have to re build my relationships I wrecked from the ground up.
And I don't know where to start.
So I took it all apart.
I run and run hoping to find my way out, but instead, I see a man that has my face, with a look of disappointment.
I switch directions as fast as I can, but I slip, fall, and hit my head.
Now I'm in some sort of bed.
No one will tell me where I'm at.
They just stare at me with those faces of disappointment. ALL OF THEM!
I didn't realize all the people I hurt.
They warned me, but I didn't listen.
So I'm in a really awkward position.
I don't know where to turn from here.
I miss my friends, I miss my family.
I want it all back, everything that I lack.
So the question I ask myself now is 'how'?
Where do I go from here?
I think I feel another tear.
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Comments about this poem (Lost by Nicholas Wayde Turner )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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